


All the Things yet to Come Are the Things That Have Passed

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: AU- Backstory Swap, AU- Class Swap, Backstory spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Gen, M/M, tw for the kinds of things involved in both of their backstories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 12:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: Veth is a lonely girl in Blumenthal with an affinity for magic.  Bren is a bullied boy in Felderwin that doesn't quite fit in right. Their lives trace familiar and unfamiliar paths.





	All the Things yet to Come Are the Things That Have Passed

**Author's Note:**

> I got super hooked on this concept when I realized that the base of Nott and Caleb's backstories were the same (lonely children in rural communities), and to my surprise, I actually finished the fic! Also: class swaps are cool. Also! Magic school!Nott was just a callin' to me.
> 
> Title from Hozier's Wasteland, Baby! because Caleb and Nott, in any form, are indelible friends. 
> 
> Also, the timelines between their stories aren't meant to run entirely parallel.

Veth is a lonely child, even if her family absolutely adores her, in their own way. They don't understand their little daughter and her love of collecting shiny buttons and well-shaped rocks, but her hobbies are harmless, and they try to shield her from the bullies as much as possible. Blumenthal, luckily, doesn't have too many bullies. 

She has no siblings, and she's the apple of her parents’ eyes. They notice how smart she is, how quick to pick up on new things, and they're blown away. 

They scrimp and they save up to give her any opportunity to advance beyond the poverty into which she was born. She's not much for intense studying, but a man comes to town, shows her a few basic parlor tricks with magic, and she works from there to master the basics under his instruction. 

“If she can learn discipline,” the man says with a smile, “she can do incredible things.”

And Veth's parents? Delighted. 

Veth herself cares less for the prestige in and of itself, and more for the soft glow of pride on her parents’ faces. Her odd brain that makes her collect rocks and buttons also makes her good at magic, and Veth works hard to prove it. 

* * *

Bren is certain that he was born in the wrong family. This is a conclusion he comes to by age 5. He has four brothers who love working and toiling on the farm, and then there’s.... him.

Bren is smaller than them, and he prefers to spend his time sneaking away to read books. Not that there are a lot of books in Felderwin, but Lady Edith has a secret stash that she lets him read when he can get into town proper. 

The other students pick up on his weirdness when he goes to school. He stays out of their way as best he can, but that’s not usually best enough. 

He is polite and well-spoken, and that’s not what her parents want in a son. Old Lady Edith’s books fill his head with silly tales about dashing rogues and armored bears and talented archers, and Bren dreams of what's beyond the farmstead, beyond Felderwin. 

“You’re the eldest,” his father says gruffly. “That means you have to inherit the farm.”

“What if I don’t want it?” Bren complains, aged twelve. “I’m not a farmer!”

“Listen,” his father says, with more gentleness than Bren would’ve imagined possible, “I know this isn’t the life you want, but starting out with a piece of land like this is a great gift. Treat the land well, and she’ll make sure your family is well taken care of.”

Bren scuffs his foot against the floor, not quite looking at him. Why should he be stuck being a farmer just because his parents are? What good is a gift that you don't want? 

But Bren doesn't say any of those things; he just nods and runs off, wanting to make sure he finishes his book before sunset. Not wanting to be part of another yelling match. 

* * *

Veth learns quickly that she is good with two magic schools in particular: illusions and enchantment. It turns out, she's even a good student. While her classes back in Blumenthal had bored her, at the academy, they're doing challenging work, and Veth loves it. 

She works late and helps the other students with their studies. They don’t all catch on as quick as she does, and she likes to help (and the praise from her professors that comes with her hard work and care). 

And then she’s called to speak with Professor Ikithon. 

Veth picks out her very nicest dress when she gets the message. The material is stiff and the pleats along the skirt are crisp, but her mom always says that it makes her look like a real adult. She pulls her hair back into a careful plait before the meeting. She wears the button necklace that her mother hated the least, too. A compromise of sorts, with someone who doesn’t even know that she’s being compromised with.

Everyone has heard that Professor Ikithon selects the best and the brightest students on incredibly rare occasions. Nobody knows what exactly for, except that they learn how to best serve the Empire. 

Veth would like to make her parents proud.

“Veth, welcome,” Professor Ikithon says. “Please, sit.”

It looks like an ordinary office. Same straight-backed and uncomfortable chairs as in all her professors’ offices, same bookshelves running straight up to the ceiling. There’s something humming at the back of her skull that sets her on the slightest edge as she sits on the chair, but the feeling eases as Professor Ikithon hands her a cup of tea. 

“I’ve been watching your progress for some time. You have quite the arcane talent,” Professor Ikithon says, coming to sit in his seat. “I believe that you’re destined for great things, and I would like to help with that.”

Veth takes a sip of her drink. She is thirteen and foolish, in the way that all thirteen-year-olds are, but she still frowns a bit at that. 

“Great things?” Veth says, tilting her head. “I’m just a girl from Blumenthal. There’s nothing special about me.”

There are few things that Veth would argue with an authority figure about, and this is one of them. 

Professor Ikithon smiles a bit at that. “I’ve actually selected three of you from Blumenthal that I think can do great things under my tutelage. Trust me- I have an eye for talent. The three of you will get along well, I think, and we will do great things together.”

Veth takes another sip of her drink. She has a sudden image of herself as an adult, full of arcane power and surrounded by her friends. Even though she’s never seen the other two, she can see them in her mind’s eye as clear as day. They value her, they rely on her, and she doesn’t let them down. Not once.

“Veth, you could do amazing things to help your country, and you could make your parents so proud,” Professor Ikithon says softly. “You don’t have to, but I would like you to so very much.”

Veth makes up her mind just then, visions of friendship dancing across her mind. She nods firmly. 

“When can I start?”

* * *

Bren doesn't even know how he ended up at this stupid party. He doesn't usually get invited to these things, which is fine. Maybe Valen's mom made her invite everyone. 

If so, fifteen year old (almost sixteen!) Bren would like to have a stern word with her, because he's found himself in a circle with ten of his classmates. There's a bottle in the middle of them all, spinning around and around, and Bren can't believe that he’s the one who spun it, and he’s going to have to deal with the consequences. 

It spins around and around and around, and Bren watches it with bated breath. He hopes somehow that it manages to land on no one. 

Sadly, the bottle doesn’t jump out of the circle. Instead, it stops right on one of his classmates. It’s Yeza, a halfling boy a year or two above him in school. Not particularly popular, but not as attractive to the bullies as Bren is. 

Yeza blushes red as he turns towards Bren. 

“Well… I guess we should do this,” Yeza says, not unkindly as he turns towards him and gets to his feet. 

“Okay,” Bren says. 

Sitting down Bren is just a hair shorter than Yeza is standing, and he leans forward as Yeza does, too. His lips are kind of rough, but it still makes Bren’s heart beat a little faster. There’s not really a tingle or any of the things that Bren has read about in all of his storybooks, but it still feels… nice. 

The girl next to Bren starts to giggle, and a second later, everyone in the circle is giggling at them. Bren jumps backward, getting to his feet without thinking. He can feel the heat on his face, and his heart is suddenly beating in a much less pleasant way. 

“My mother wants me home,” Bren mumbles, not able to look any of them in the face. “Sorry.”

Bren isn’t generally much of a runner, but he manages to run all the way back to the farm. 

(He doesn’t go to school the next day, or the next. When he does, nobody pays any more attention to him than usual, except he keeps catching Yeza watching him.)

* * *

Veth loves being part of Trent’s handpicked team. Their closeness is even better than Veth could have dreamed.

Eodwulf is like the brother that Veth had always dreamed of having. He throws up shields and banishes the enemies that Trent throws at them, keeping them safe, keeping them protected. 

Astrid is… something else. She is so smart and can create the most incredible things with the wave of her hands. Watching her work is entrancing, and Veth extra looks forward when they work together one-on-one. 

When she accidentally stumbles across Veth sorting through her shiny things collection, she doesn’t laugh at her. Instead, she tilts her head with a soft smile on her face and asks to see the rest. (Veth is certain this is a trap, but shows her anyway; Veth is certain it is a trap until a few days later when Astrid shyly hands her a button from a pretty dress her mother sent her that she says made her think of Veth.)

(Maybe this is a different kind of trap)

They start doing what Trent calls real work about a year or so into their training. Each of the three of them has their specialties, but this is where Veth starts to really shine. Once she gets over her hesitation. 

“You don’t like hurting the prisoners for information,” Astrid says one day. They’re laid out under the stars, Veth’s head resting on her stomach so Astrid can play with her long hair. “Trent can tell. I can, too.”

Veth stares up at the skies above them. The stars are twinkling particularly bright; one of the moons is completely hidden, the other barely a sliver of light. 

A few hours ago, Veth was crying into her pillow. She had spent the afternoon assisting Trent in extracting information from “high priority prisoners,” which mostly involved driving them off the deep end with her illusions and enchantments. 

The last woman nearly clawed her own eyes out before the guards were able to restrain her. Because of Veth and her magic.

“Did he say something?” Veth asks. “Ask you to bring me out here?”

“He mentioned it. I wanted to bring you out here because I like spending time with you, though,” Astrid says. Her slim fingers still carding through Veth’s hair. “I noticed you were unhappy.” 

There is a long silence that echoes with screaming in Veth’s ears. A woman being dipped in lava; a man watching his son be torn apart by beasts; a Crick re-living past tortures that Veth can’t even imagine; Veth makes it feel so real to them that it can actually hurt them, but it's all in their heads. 

“It was just terrible, is all,” Veth says with a sigh. “I don’t know why it’s okay for us to do these terrible things.”

“We’re serving our country. I think that’s why it’s okay,” Astrid says after a moment. “Trent wouldn’t have us do this unless it was okay.”

Veth reaches up with a hand to find Astrid’s and takes hold, squeezing gently. 

“I guess you’re right,” Veth says. “He’s the adult here. He knows what he’s doing.” 

“We’re still learning. Getting used to that kind of thing… I think it’s part of the learning,” Astrid says. “It’s okay to be scared, but we just have to grow up, I think.”

“I'll be better,” Veth vows. “I promise.”

“I know. It’s hard for me, too,” Astrid says.

(They kiss under the stars and she is the sweetest thing Veth has ever tasted)

* * *

“I’m sorry about what happened.”

Bren looks up to see Yeza standing in front of him. He’s hunched down against the school, trying to avoid the eyes of his fellow students at play, so he actually has to look up at Yeza for once. 

“What?” Bren says.

“I’m sorry that they all laughed at you. At the party,” Yeza says, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I didn’t think it was funny. I thought it was nice, actually.”

His eyes seem to widen like he didn’t mean to say that. 

“I’m sorry that I ran away,” Bren says. “I just… didn’t like everyone staring like that.”

“Yeah, it sucked,” Yeza says. “My name is Yeza, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah I know your name,” Bren says with a nervous chuckle. There’s a long pause, and he realizes that Yeza is waiting for his name. Oh. “I’m Bren.”

“What are you reading?” Yeza asks. 

Bren looks down at the book that he had almost forgotten was curled up in his lap. He briefly considers getting up and fleeing. Somehow that seems better than answering the question. This feels dangerous, but Yeza is looking down at him, a genuine curiosity on his face. 

Somehow, that feels like more of a danger.

But Bren tilts his book so Yeza can read the cover. Yeza’s gaze flits over the words quickly. 

“Never heard of that one. What’s it about?” Yeza asks.

The interest is so earnest as Yeza plops down beside him that Bren, for once, forgets to be mistrusting. 

* * *

There are dark circles under Veth’s eyes all the time now. She sees them every time she looks in the mirror. She sees them reflected back at her when she looks at Astrid and at Eodwulf. 

She finds him one day, crouched down against the wall of one of the campus buildings. His face is buried in his arms, and he’s shaking so hard that Veth is worried that he’s going to hurt himself. At the very least, he’s going to be in trouble if anyone else notices; Professor Ikithon’s prized students can’t be having public breakdowns. 

“Eodwulf,” Veth says gently, kneeling beside the shaking man. “Come on.”

Her friend - her brother- looks up at her. Tears are still streaking their way down his face, and Veth wipes them away carefully with the sleeve of her dress. 

“I don’t think I can,” Eodwulf says. “Veth, I can’t do this anymore.”

“You can do it, Eodwulf,” Veth says softly, suppressing her sense of panic. “You can get up. I believe in you.”

A light pricks on behind his eyes, and he nods. With her help, Eodwulf gets to his feet. He’s bent over almost double, using her shoulder for support. Veth keeps an arm wrapped around his hips as best she can to help.

They stay out of sight for the most part. Until they make it back to the wing that contains their dormitory. 

“Veth, Eodwulf, how wonderful to see you,” Trent’s voice comes from behind them, and they both freeze. “It’s a lovely day.”

Stomach churning, Veth turns back around with Eodwulf. Her stomach clenches even harder when she sees his face. He will be so disappointed in them.

The thing about Trent is he looks so normal. Just a normal human man, with soft-looking brown hair and kind eyes. It makes it easy to trust him; it makes Veth so sure that what he does to them is okay. Needed. 

“Eodwulf, what’s wrong?” Trent asks, brows furrowed. 

Eodwulf stiffens beside her, and Veth doesn’t have to look up to see that his jaw is locked shut. 

“He ate something that made him sick,” Veth peeps up. “I was just taking him back to our rooms to help him sleep it off.”

Trent looks at them with suspicion, and Veth looks back at him with her best innocent expression. She’s never been great at lying, never been great at manipulating people, but Trent has been teaching her how to lie better. 

“I don’t appreciate you lying to me, Veth, but I understand the impulse to protect your classmate,” Trent says with a friendly smile. “If Eodwulf has had too much to drink last night, he should take this as a lesson to be more restrained in the future.”

Eodwulf takes that opportunity to throw up on Trent’s shoes. To Trent’s credit, the friendly smile doesn’t change as he cleans himself off with magic.

“I really think he needs to lay down,” Veth says.

With a bemused grin, Trent waves his dismissal. “Quite. I trust you to take care of him.”

“Of course. Thank you,” Veth says. 

Eodwulf manages to make it to his bed, flopping bonelessly. 

“Thank you,” Eodwulf says softly. 

Veth helps him haul his feet up onto his bed and takes his shoes off. Then, she comes up to the head of the bed, sitting herself down and skimming her fingers gently through his hair. His skin and hair are slick with sweat. 

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Veth says. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” Eodwulf says.

“There is a greater purpose to this, Eodwulf. You know that. It will be worth it when our people are safe. When we have made them safe,” Veth says. “It may take our blood, our sweat, and our tears, but it will be worth it. I promise.”

Eodwulf reaches out with a shaky hand to pull back her sleeve. 

Veth looks away. She can’t bear to look at her arms. Where once there was freckled dark skin, there are now jagged, angry lines carved into her skin. 

“What purpose could there be to this?” Eodwulf asks.

Veth is saved from answering by the door opening. She looks over her shoulder to see Astrid entering the room. Her body is shaking like Eodwulf’s; there’s blood trailing down her hands. Veth doesn’t know whose it is. To a certain extent, it doesn’t matter.

Astrid closes the door behind her and crosses over to them. Without saying anything, she joins the two of them on the bed, curling around Veth and burying her face in her hair. Her body trembles against Veth’s as she weeps softly. 

Veth takes Astrid’s hand, squeezing gently, and she takes Eodwulf’s, too. She doesn’t know how she became the center of this group, this little family, and she doesn’t know where they’re headed, apart from some grand and great design, but she’s determined to get them there. 

No matter what.

* * *

Being Yeza’s… whatever they are doesn’t solve all of his problems. Not even close. His parents are still disappointed in him, his brothers still tease him, and his classmates still like to bully him. 

But he’s not alone anymore, and that sure is something. They eat lunch together in the corner of the schoolyard, and Yeza walks him home every day. 

“It’s good to see you getting along with someone your own age, sweetie,” Mother says, ruffling her fingers through his hair. 

“If only he wasn’t neglecting his chores to do it,” Father grumbles from the kitchen table.

“It’s not much of a loss, really,” Tarrin says, knocking into Bren purposefully as he walks by. “You’d think Bren had never seen a scythe before, the way he holds it when he has to work the harvest.”

“Yeah,” Vardan adds, “at this point, I’m pretty sure he has to be faking how bad he is at all the farmwork. Like, you have to be trying.”

“He’s just lazy! Lifts one hay bale, and he needs to take a load off,” Tarrin says.

Bren’s cheeks heat up at their words, even as Mother shushes them. They’re not wrong per se. He is very bad at farmwork. It doesn’t interest him, and he really does get tired.

It’s no wonder he doesn’t spend much time at home anymore.

“I, uh, appreciate you spending so much time here,” Yeza says one evening. The store is closed, and Yeza’s mother has gone home to cook dinner, leaving the two of them to finish closing up. “I know it must be dreadfully boring.”

“It’s really not,” Bren says, smiling at him. He smiles more around Yeza than anyone else. Even when he’s doing mundane chores like sweeping. “Listening to you and your mother talk about alchemy is nice. I don’t even mind helping out around the store when it gets busy!”

“Mamma actually wanted me to say something about that,” Yeza starts, and Bren’s heart sinks. He’s going to be kicked out of here. Having some human reading in the corner and occasionally piping up is bad for business, he would guess. “How would you like to work here?”

“What?” Bren is pretty sure he misunderstood.

“Like, a part-time thing. You answer questions and help me sweep up,” Yeza gestures to the broom in Bren’s hand. “My parents will pay you a few copper a week.”

“A few copper?” Bren repeats, eyes widening.

“Is that not enough?” Yeza asks with a frown. “I think they’d probably go for a little more money if you want. They really like you!”

“Oh, no. That’s more than enough. That’s more than any of my brothers have ever brought in,” Bren says with a laugh.

Yeza laughs with him, crossing the distance between them. He presses his hand to Bren’s arm, and they share a smile. 

“Thank you,” Bren says quietly. He’s not just talking about the job. Their friendship has made him so much happier. 

“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Yeza says. “It’s been… nice having a real friend.”

They take their time cleaning up that night. 

And most nights.

* * *

Veth wonders what it would be like if she didn’t have a body anymore.

The crystals have been thrust under her skin for so long that she’s moved past pain to a sort of crystal space. In the crystal space, she can’t feel her limbs, can’t feel the burning in her blood. 

She almost treasures this space. There’s a clarity, a peace. 

She’s allowed to wonder idle things, like what it would be like if she didn’t have a body anymore.

It’s worse when it ends. When Trent pulls the crystals out and leaves her slumped in her chair. He brushes the hair out of her eyes, before turning to leave.

“You are doing such great things, Veth. The Empire thanks you,” Trent says before shutting the door behind him.

The crystalline structure of her mind breaks, and she’s very firmly reminded that she does have a body. Everything from the blood in her veins to the walls of her throat ache and hurt and even the tears tracing down her cheeks seems to pulse with agony.

“It’s okay,” Astrid’s voice is gentle by her ear. “You’re not alone. It’s okay.”

Fingers stroke her hair- it was in a braid earlier, but it isn’t anymore- and the sensation hurts but also, doesn’t, but only because it’s Astrid.

Veth forces her eyes to focus on Astrid, and she smiles despite it all for the briefest of moments.

“Eodwulf is coming. He had to finish with an interrogation,” Astrid says. 

“I’m okay,” Veth says in a shaky voice. “I can get up.”

“Don’t try,” Astrid says. “It was a long session.”

Veth tries to stand up anyway, but her arms shake too much under her own weight to even sit upright. Never mind, then.

“It all hurts,” Veth says, hating the catch in her voice and the fragility rolling down her cheeks. 

“Why are we doing this, Veth?” Astrid asks.

Veth looks down at her arms. They’re covered in gashes, blood seeping to the surface. It doesn’t move quite like blood usually does, but she pushes that thought aside. She looks back to Astrid.

“It’s for the Empire,” Veth reminds her, voice shaking. “We will keep our people safe. No matter what the cost.”

“This cost just seems too high,” Astrid says. 

Astrid is watching her, hurt and scared, and this is where Veth’s confidence wavers, in these little moments between the two of them.

“Trent has endured this, too. It made him stronger. It will make us stronger, too,” Veth reminds them both.

It doesn’t seem to mollify Astrid, but the door opens, which cuts Astrid off.

“How is she?” Eodwulf’s voice comes from the doorway, heavy footsteps following. 

“It was a long session,” Astrid says, taking a step back.

The distance makes Veth whine; Astrid chuckles softly and whispers, “patience.”

Eodwulf takes her place, squatting down next to her. He cups her forehead with a hand so large his thumb just about tweaks her nose. Something he feels there makes him tut, which turns into a soft humming because he knows it calms her down.

“We’ll get you back to your room, and you can have a good rest,” Astrid says. 

“Think Astrid would let me stay if I wasn’t so useful for carrying you around?” Eodwulf asks with a wink as he scoops Veth into his arms.

Eodwulf has always been stronger than any of them, probably stronger than most of the other students at the Academy, period. Astrid used to like to tease him about being a meathead, and Eodwulf would always play along, even though he was plenty smart enough to keep up with them. 

“Definitely not,” Astrid says primly, smiling to belay the sharp words. 

They banter back and forth, and while Veth appreciates the effort, she’s too tired to focus on it. The gentle sounds of their voices wash over her as she snuggles against Eodwulf’s chest. This is the intended effect, anyway.

These are her friends. These are the best friends that she has ever had. She loves them both with the entirety of her heart, in very different ways.

She’s not sure what it means that the place she fits in best is this place of horror and pain.

Astrid pulls back the covers to her bed, and Eodwulf lays her down, taking off her shoes and straightening her out so she’ll be comfortable. Once she’s set, Astrid crawls next to her, cuddling her close, her own shoes discarded on the floor.

Eodwulf tucks them both in just as Veth’s body starts to shake. This is a common part of the come-down from the crystals, and Astrid just holds her closer, murmuring soothing words in her ear. 

You’re going to be okay, Veth. We’ll keep each other safe, and we will have each other for ever and forever. All three of us, and you and me. 

Eodwulf comes back (Veth doesn’t remember him leaving?) with a glass of water and some sweets- Veth’s favorite. 

“They’re here when you’re ready,” Eodwulf soothes. The bed dips as he sits down. He takes her hand and squeezes tight. “And we’re here for you, no matter what.”

You’re going to be okay, Veth. We’ll keep each other safe, and we will have each other for ever and forever. All three of us, and you and me. You and me, Veth.

When Veth wakes up the next morning, Eodwulf is curled up at the foot of her bed, cramming himself into a space much too small for him, for her. Astrid is still wrapped around her, holding her close, keeping her safe. 

Astrid’s face is drawn and pale, even in sleep, and her brow is furrowed as if she’s thinking hard about some new spell. Veth strokes her face gently, gratified when she relaxes somewhat. 

“One day…” Veth murmurs lightly to herself.

But what she’s hoping for, she’s not sure.

* * *

It happens on one of those late nights after the shop has closed, some years after Bren starts working for the Brenattos. 

He is sitting on the floor, watching Yeza finish up. There's a book in his lap, but Bren is ignoring it. He feels the need to escape into fantasy less and less often these days; mostly he reads alchemical texts and texts on adjacent subjects.

Mostly, he watches Yeza close shop for the night.

“You’re staring again,” Yeza teases as he sets the broom aside.

“Sorry,” Bren mumbles, blushing and looking away. 

“No, it’s, uh, good. Staring is good, when it’s you,” Yeza admits.

Yeza comes to stand in front of him, feet just barely nudging Bren’s. He looks nervous, which isn’t like him. Well, it is like him, but not with Bren. 

“Is everything alright?” Bren asks.

Yeza fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “I guess.”

Bren reaches out to grab his hand, looking up at him questioningly. His friend is clearly lying. Badly.

“I just, uh, really like you a lot! And I, uh, really, uhm-” and Yeza cuts himself off by leaning forward.

Bren could push him away if he wanted to. But he doesn’t want to. It’s less awkward than their kiss at that stupid party, and with nobody around to laugh, they’re both more comfortable. 

It’s soft and sweet, even with their noses kind of pressing awkwardly together and Yeza half leaning and half kneeling on him. 

“I like you, too,” Bren says once they pull apart. 

“Oh, I’m glad we agree! Or else that would’ve been so, so embarrassing,” Yeza says. “Oh, gods, I like you too. Obviously!”

Bren smiles at him, wide and toothy in the way he only does when he’s around Yeza.

“I don’t think we need to be embarrassed in front of each other,” Bren says.

Yeza nods in agreement and leans in to kiss him again. They walk hand-in-hand upstairs to where Yeza lives with his family, and the overwhelming response seems to be “finally!”

Not six months later, they’re betrothed.

Yeza jokes that he’ll happily change the name of the whole apothecary if Bren doesn’t want to be Bren Brenatto. 

Bren is quite serious when he says that he would rather be Bren Brenatto than anyone else.

* * *

“You are doing exemplary work,” Trent says with a wide grin on his face. “All three of you… I am truly impressed with the caliber of the work you’re doing. I have high expectations, and I am pleased to say that all three of you have exceeded them.”

Veth’s grin matches his. It feels… so good to be valued. So good to be wanted. 

“Thank you for everything that you’ve taught us,” Astrid says. 

Veth tilts her head to look over at her. She looks healthier than she has in a while, determined; it makes Veth sing somewhere deep inside; she loves her. 

“You are ready for your graduation. But first, you must go home to your families. It will be some time before you’re able to see them again once you have graduated; I have an important mission for the three of you that will take you quite far away,” Trent says. 

Veth tries to think back to the last time that she saw her parents. Before Trent had picked her (although, she has realized by now- Trent picked her a long, long time ago for this) at the regular parents weekend. 

Their faces are blurred in her mind; she hasn’t thought of them in a while. At one point, all she wanted was to make them proud, but she can’t remember why that was important. She makes Trent proud now. She makes her Empire proud now. (She makes Astrid and Eodwulf happy)

“That’s not necessary, Trent,” Veth says, shaking her head. “I don’t need to see my parents. I want to keep working.”

Trent raises an eyebrow. “You don’t want to see your family?”

Veth shakes her head, intertwining her fingers with Astrid’s and taking Eodwulf’s hand. “I am already with my family, and I want to keep working to keep the Empire safe.”

“That is quite touching,” Trent says, “but I must insist. Rest assured, you will be able to see each other while back in Blumenthal and the Empire will not crumble in your absence. I feel it will do good for you to remember where you came from.”

“Okay,” Veth says, squeezing Eodwulf and Astrid’s hands. Going back home is a strange concept; she’s not the same girl she was. “If you insist.”

* * *

Yeza and Bren Brenatto are married in a large ceremony. Bren hadn’t realized quite how affluent a family he was marrying into. It means he often feels out of sorts- there’s a whole world that he didn’t know that he doesn’t know about- but when he’s helping Yeza in the shop, none of it matters.

Bren picks up the social niceties quickly. He has a knack for this, like he has a knack for alchemy. They don’t necessarily make sense to him, but he can pretend that he fits in enough for  ~~ his husband’s ~~ his peers to believe it. 

“We can go out and see your family this week, if you’d like,” Yeza says.

They’re closing up the shop, Bren doing the books at the register while Yeza stocks the shelves. The register is halfling height, so Bren is seated in a low chair; they’ve cleared some shelves away for his legs. 

Bren shrugs. “It’s so far out to the farm, and it’s harvest season, so it’s busy for them.”

“You really don’t miss the farm at all, do you?” Yeza asks. 

“I never fit in there,” Bren says. “I think they’re happier without me around, honestly.”

Yeza crosses over to the register, leaning over it with a sort of sad smile on his face. He presses a hand to Bren’s cheek.

“Their loss is definitely my gain,” Yeza says. 

“Maybe we can just spend a relaxing weekend together,” Bren says. 

“I like that! I like that a lot,” Yeza says. 

They’re a little family already; they’ve been a little family. And Bren is so glad that he has a place to fit at last.

His happily ever after, like in all of his books.

* * *

Veth hears her parents whispering with each other in the kitchen after she is supposed to have been in bed. They whisper words of treason. Clearly unconnected to any larger network, but still, working to undermine the Empire.

Veth stands over her parents as they writhe on the floor. She still doesn’t like screams, so she’s silenced them. It’s better that way.

* * *

Yeza and Bren inherit the apothecary when Yeza’s parents retire. Tarrin takes over the farm when their parents get too old to keep farming. 

It’s a gradual shifting of responsibility on both accounts; they make a passing attempt to hand the farm over to Bren because he is still the oldest; Bren writes back that he bequeaths the farm to whichever of his brothers wants it most and washes his hands of the whole thing. 

Part of him wants to be petty and keep it, just because. Make his brothers work for him. But honestly? He’s happy now and content, and he doesn’t need the extra money that the farm would bring in since the shop is doing well. 

He sees his brothers not very often, if at all, but one day, Tarrin appears in the doorframe of the shop, lingering as if he’s not sure how to enter.

“Tarrin!” Yeza calls out, startling Bren from where he’s reading his book behind the register. “What are you doing here? Come in, come in.”

“Uh, thanks, Yeza,” Tarrin says, stepping forward. Behind him is a woman in a heavy cloak that Bren doesn’t recognize, and it strikes him again how divergent their lives have become. “This is a real nice shop that you have here.”

“Thank you,” Bren says. The words aren’t unfriendly, but he feels weirdly stiff and formal. Like he’s talking to a stranger from some distant land and not his brother. “How are you? Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Aylin,” she says. “I actually need your help. Both of you.”

Bren and Yeza exchange a look. 

“Why don’t I put a pot of tea on?” Yeza says. “We’re just about to close up anyway.”

“That sounds good, thank you,” Aylin says. 

“Of course,” Yeza says. 

There’s some awkward bustle as Bren invites them all the way inside and locks the door, switches the sign to closed. Tarrin and Aylin both stand in the middle of the room, looking around at nothing much. 

Bren and Yeza have a silent conversation across the room. Neither of them know what’s going on, and both of them think this is more than a little weird. 

“We can move up to our home?” Bren says. 

Everyone gives awkward half nods, and they bumble their way up the stairs to their living room. It strikes Bren that no one in his family has been up here since… it takes him a minute to remember. Has it really been since their wedding? Certainly not since Yeza’s parents retired and they moved up here.

“So, ah, what can we help you with?” Bren asks when everyone is settled with their tea. 

He and Yeza are sharing the loveseat, and Tarrin and Aylin chose seats about as far away from each other as possible. It really only makes the extended silence that follows Bren’s question feel even stranger. 

“Tarrin has been telling me a lot about you; he says that you’re good people, that he’s always looked up to you, Bren,” Aylin says. 

Tarrin’s face turns bright red as Bren looks at him with surprise. It’s not like Tarrin to be complimentary of him. 

“Bren is a wonderful man,” Yeza says in agreement.

“I, uh, recently found out that I’m pregnant. I can’t raise a baby right now… it’s just not possible,” Aylin says.

“Oh, that sounds difficult. Do you need medicine?” Yeza asks, tilting his head. “We’d be happy to help.”

“Not quite, but thank you,” Aylin says, pressing her lips together for a moment. “I’d like you to raise my child. I’m not able to, but I’d like my child to have a loving family.”

“The child’s not mine,” Tarrin jumps in, then looks sheepish about it. “I mean, if that was gonna make you say no. Aylin is just a good friend, and I want to help her and her child. And you, if you’d still like to be a father, Bren. I know you’ve mentioned it before.”

“And what would your roles be in this?” Yeza asks. 

“I wouldn’t have any; Tarrin would just be an uncle. The child would be yours, and all I want in return is a promise that you’ll give them a good life,” Aylin says. 

Bren and Yeza have a lot of long talks in the nights that follow. The pros, the cons (they’re so young!), but also… this is what they’ve both wanted, to be fathers. 

Six months later, their child is born.

* * *

Veth kisses Astrid, hard. Her mouth is soft against hers, as they’re curled up in bed together. She sighs as she buries her face against the crook of Astrid’s neck, relaxing slightly as Astrid brushes her fingers through her hair. 

“Sometimes, I think about what things would be like if we weren’t here,” Astrid murmurs, voice taking a weird tone. “If we were back in Blumenthal, say.”

Veth laughs softly. “Well, my parents were the poorest of farmers; my father was a soldier, but mostly, we were just poor. I imagine that you wouldn’t’ve looked twice at me.”

(Her parents have been dead for years now, she doesn’t mention. She has killed them, years ago, and she forgets what they look like, except with their mouths open in silent screams. Veth doesn’t mention that. Bad pillow talk.)

“I always look twice at pretty girls,” Astrid counters. “And I was also the daughter of poor farmers. We could be poor married farmers together.”

“I rather prefer being secret agents of the Empire together,” Veth says, not pointing out that she isn’t pretty, that there isn’t anything much looking at. Her value is in what she can  _ do _ . She reaches blindly for the soft bedsheet, sliding it over the two of them. “We get much better accommodations this way.”

“I just…” Astrid sighs. “Sometimes, I wish we could go on vacation. Just for a little bit.”

“They did let us go home before graduation,” Veth points out.

Sure, killing her parents in the line of duty wasn’t relaxing, but still. The trip, overall, was pleasant. 

“Like, a real vacation,” Astrid says. 

“This is weird pillow talk,” Veth says, pulling back to look at her. She cups Astrid’s cheek, smoothing away the frown with the pad of her thumb. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Sometimes… I just wonder what we’re doing here,” Astrid’s voice is barely a whisper. “Why all of this is needed, even with the war.”

“For our people,” Veth says.

To make Trent proud. she doesn’t say but certainly feels. The soft glow of pride is a strong allure.

“You’re saving your people. What higher honor and better purpose could there be?” Veth says when Astrid is silent.

“What if we could be happy instead?” Astrid’s voice is barely audible. “Somewhere else.”

It’s Astrid’s turn to take her silence as a reason to keep talking.

“We’re powerful enough to live on our own, to go elsewhere. Tal’Dorei, Marquet… We could make a life anywhere, Veth,” Astrid says. 

Veth’s insides feel twisted, all of a sudden. There are unspoken rules, in their little group. One of them is that you don’t talk about leaving. They aren’t allowed to leave, and Veth is less convinced of their power in comparison to those that would be stacked against them.

Astrid’s voice is so soft that Veth can pretend that she didn’t hear her, so she does that. Instead, she presses soft kisses to the underside of Astrid’s jaw. No more words.

* * *

Haf runs ahead, and Bren will regret letting that happen for the rest of his life.

Haf runs ahead, their little daughter on little legs that Bren knows will take her to marvelous heights. She giggles, and Bren and Yeza watch her dart ahead with proud smiles on their faces. 

Bren hangs back, lacing his fingers through Yeza’s as they watch her go to keep him from running along after her. The field they’re in is clear enough that she’s not going to get lost, and they’re far enough from the river that she’s not in danger of falling in. 

“I’ve been thinking about the work we’ve been contracted to do for the Academy,” Bren says. 

“Oh?”

“I think it could be really good for us,” Bren says. “I know you’re a bit nervous, but we can help the Empire and maybe get enough gold to really expand the business. Your parents always wanted to open a second shop. Maybe we can actually do it.”

“Well-”

Yeza’s reply is cut off by the sound of laughter in the distance. Not human or halfling laughter- something higher pitched and more sinister.

Their eyes meet for the briefest of moments, and they turn in unison towards Haf, sprinting forward as they call her to them.

Haf toddles forward, enjoying the game of chase and heedless of her fathers’ panic. 

Bren reaches Haf first, scoops her up into his arms. She’s still laughing just as the first band of goblins appears. 

The goblin band lives at the edge of the town, just on the other side of the river. Felderwin has never been able to drive them away permanently, no matter how hard they try; they had been absent for a while, so Bren has thought it was safe, stupidly trusting the good nature of the world.

Bren turns back towards Yeza, who is still a few feet away. He’s about to tell Yeza to turn around, but there are goblins appearing along the edge of the forest behind them, too. They must have circled around, leaving them well and truly surrounded.

“What do we do?” Bren asks as the distance closes between them. 

“I don’t know!” Yeza exclaims.

The goblins are taking their time making their way towards them, but they’ve definitely spotted them. Even Haf has quieted down, finally sensing her fathers’ concern.

Yeza takes Haf, and Bren does his best to keep himself between his family and the bulk of the goblin horde. There’s no real way to shield them, even if he is by far the tallest one in this clearing. 

It’s almost comical when they finally reach them. The goblins can’t really tie up Yeza with Haf in his arms, and they have to poke and smack at Bren to get him to bend over to tie his hands up properly. 

They march them back towards the camp, a squalid little collection of shambles on the other side of the river, and they’re shoved into a tent too small for Bren.

Bren’s hands are tied to a wooden pole, and the goblins tie-up Yeza and Haf, too. The goblins mutter things that he doesn’t understand, but leave them alone soon enough. 

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Yeza says, looking down at Haf. 

Bren tries to pull at the bindings. When that doesn’t work, he tries to get a good grasp on the knot so he can untie it. It doesn’t give, and he can’t scoot to get at either of their bindings, either.

“I think we’re going to have to wait for an opportunity,” Bren says. “And be ready to take it when it presents itself.”

Bren will regret letting Haf run ahead for the rest of his life.

* * *

Veth closes her eyes and then opens them slowly. She hopes that when she opens her eyes, she will be back in her bedroom. Not her bedroom at the Academy, not Astrid’s or Eodwulf’s bedroom, not even the luxurious bedroom she stayed in when she was on a mission in Port Damali, where she watched the moons reflecting off the Lucidian Ocean. 

She hopes instead that she is back in her bedroom in Blumenthal. Plain, unpainted four walls, uncomfortable bed, tiny window with no view of anything other than failing fields that yield less and less each year. A heavy quilt on the bed, the only bright spot, and lovingly made by her mother. 

But that bedroom is gone, or at least, her parents are gone, and when she opens her eyes, she’s standing in front of Trent, in front of Eodwulf, in front of Astrid.

Astrid has been pushed to her knees by a blast from Trent, her short hair disheveled, and Eodwulf has taken a defensive stance in front of her, using his larger body to shield her from more. 

“Well, Veth, what do you have to say for yourself?” Trent asks. “Were you planning on running away with these ungrateful traitors?”

Veth shakes her head mutely. It’s the honest truth. They hadn’t told her they were running away. Not in so many words, at least.

(She knew.)

(It had been building for years now)

(She didn’t want to know. If she could just convince them to stay without actually making the argument, then everything would be okay.)

“Ah, so they were going to leave you behind. I trust that will make your choice much easier then,” Trent says.

“We were going to tell you!” Astrid says. “Once everything was in place. We had tickets and everything for you, too!”

“It’s true,” Eodwulf says. “We just wanted everything to be ready first.” 

“So they didn’t trust you enough to tell you. Touching,” Trent says.

“I just thought that you couldn’t see a way out! So I wanted to be able to show you one. Please, Veth,” Astrid says. “We have a way out. We can be happy together.”

Veth swallows hard, looking between her mentor and her brother and her love. They’ve been together for years at this point. All four of them. All three of them. Both of them. 

She raises her hand.

* * *

The opportunity doesn’t come and it doesn’t come. For all Bren has been told that goblins are stupid and inept, the goblins keep them under tight guard. 

Bren hates himself for thinking it- he only lets the thoughts skitter at the edge of his consciousness, at first-, but the problem is Haf. She doesn’t understand waiting, she doesn’t understand quiet for more than two minutes, she complains that the restraints are too tight and that she wants to go home. She won’t be able to run.

It’s all understandable, of course. After all, she’s a child, a toddler, a baby, and this is no place for any of them. 

But he can’t help thinking it. 

“I wanna go home, Papa,” Haf says, stretching out the word home to an unimaginable degree. “I’m so tired.”

“I know, sweetling,” Bren says, twisting around as best he can to face her more fully. She looks drawn, pale, and she’s lost some weight while they’ve been in captivity. It makes him nervous. “We’re going to go home soon.”

“Do you promise?” Haf asks, head leaning against her arms and eyes wide. 

“Of course,” Bren says. “Of course.”

Yeza also looks more pale than usual, but maybe that’s just because his face is drawn up with worry.

But then, there’s screaming from outside. Goblin screams. Not-goblin screams.

“Get ready,” Bren whispers.

Whether to himself or to Haf or to Yeza, he’ll never know.

* * *

“Run.”

Veth says. “Quick!”

Stumbling backward.

Eodwulf grabs her arm, humming magic across her skin.

Echoes of Trent’s laughter ringing through the halls.

Astrid pulls Veth faster and faster; there’s not a lot of time.

(She attacked her mentor. She attacked the man who plucked her from nothing and made her into something, who made her capable and skilled. She attacked him. There’s no going back from that.)

* * *

Something cracks outside their tent, and a moment later, it cracks inside the tent as something smashes the pole that Bren, Yeza, and Haf are tied to. It takes a long moment for Bren to pull his bindings off the pole and fully free himself. 

When he looks over, Yeza already has himself and Haf free. Bren smiles faintly at the sight. 

“Now, to escape,” Bren says, like it’s easy. Like it’s simple.

“Yeah, that’s all,” Yeza says, scooping Haf up.

“Let me take her,” Bren says; she’s getting too big for Yeza to carry easily.

“No!” Haf exclaims, clinging to Yeza tighter.

Yeza looks at him reassuringly.

Bren grabs the nearest weapon-like object, part of the pole they had been tied to, and creeps towards the tent flap.

* * *

For some reason, they’re not running out; they’re running down. When Veth starts to lag behind, slowed by uncertainty and short legs, Eodwulf scoops her up. She slows him down a little, but bouncing over his shoulder, she can shoot spells when Trent appears in view, much faster than she would’ve thought him capable of moving. 

She can’t silence him, like she silenced her parents, so his screams echo.

* * *

Bren runs. There are loud booms and screams and Bren doesn’t know what’s happening other than the knowledge that he needs to run. 

His legs pump underneath him, taking him further and faster than ever before. They’ve never been great at running, but the fear propels him ever forward. 

* * *

Astrid loops something around her neck, then Eodwulfs, then Veth’s.

“I need you to stay with me,” Astrid says, stroking her cheek in a stolen moment. “This will make sure that he can’t find us. Nobody can find us.”

Veth has learned how to focus through piercing pain, through the screams of those she’s tortured, through the screams of those she loves. But now her home and the life she’s built so tenderly are collapsing around her ears, and her focus has cracked.

Both of her hands are being held as she’s being tugged along. It occurs to her, vaguely, that they can’t cast as efficiently this way- Veth can’t cast most of her spells, period- and that she’s slowing the both of them down. 

When did she start running on her own again?

* * *

Bren hits the tree line, and only then does he remember to look back. 

Oh, gods, there’s no one behind him. No Yeza, no Haf. 

He stays rooted in place, begging himself to move. He needs to find them, but he has to stay safe. 

He can see now that the camp was attacked by people in unfamiliar armor. Whoever they are, they aren’t of the Empire. What they want, Bren can only guess, but they’re wreaking havoc on the goblin clan. 

Bren’s body finds a compromise between exposure and stillness and creeps around the treeline towards the main part of the camp. He keeps vigilant for any signs of anyone noticing him, or Haf and Yeza. 

* * *

They’re now in a town not far from the academy. Veth has only passed through, so she doesn’t particularly recognize anything, but she’s also not in a state to recognize much of anything anyway. 

“We have new lives set up. Passage to Nicodranas, then to Whitestone, then to Emon,” Astrid whispers hurriedly.

“How did you even… Tal’Dorei? What?” Veth says. “We can’t go to Tal’Dorei. This is our home.”

“We have to,” Eodwulf says. “The necklaces will protect us from being scried on, but Trent still has agents everywhere, so we have to get as far away as possible.”

“If we just explain that you guys had some sort of breakdown, I’m sure Trent will understand,” Veth reasons. “It can go back to how it was.”

“Veth… Veth, there’s someone you need to meet,” Astrid says, pausing just a moment to cup her cheek tenderly, kiss her chastely. “And then you’ll understand everything.”

* * *

There’s a familiar cry of pain with a more desperate edge than Bren has ever heard. Yeza stubbing in toe; Yeza splashing himself with a caustic chemical on accident; Yeza accidentally hammering his finger instead of the nail. 

Bren jolts forward, love overriding common sense. The pole is still clutched in his hand, somehow, and he holds it, pretending that it will help them.

He rounds a corner, running towards where he heard Yeza’s scream, when he finally catches sight of him. His Yeza, curls a mess, blood and dirt covering his face, clutching their daughter to his shoulder. He has the passing thought that Haf will be too big for that, soon. 

There’s a brief moment of connection between them. A spark of emotion, of love and regret.

Yeza’s face shifts to fear, and there’s a piercing pain in Bren’s back, just between the ribs, and he doesn’t even feel hitting the ground. 

(Yeza watches his husband die.)

* * *

A woman came to Astrid a few months ago, she says. She came while Astrid was feeling down, out and about in town, and pressed her fingers to her head. Then, Astrid’s mind cleared and she saw that Trent had implanted fake memories in her before she killed her parents. 

They met in secret after that, casting the spell and casting the spell, pieces of scattered memories coming back to Astrid’s awareness and what Astrid found horrified her, so she brought Eodwulf to her, and their horror only grew, even if the woman was short on answers..

This is relayed to Veth in scattered whispers as they move quickly along, and Veth is relieved. Her friends have fallen under the influence of some nefarious power, and once she has saved them and cleared their minds, they will be able to explain everything to Trent. There will be punishment, of course, and Veth shudders to think of it, but they will be able to heal from this.

When they slip into the house where Astrid assures her that the woman will be able to fix her mind, too, Veth gets ready to cast. She pulls a hand free from Eodwulf under the pretend of steadying herself, trying to keep calm.

The woman is elderly, frail-looking, and Veth hates her for her ordinariness. She hates that her loved ones came under her thrall and that this woman ruined her happiest days.

She silences the room to minimize their abilities and turns to cast another spell before realizing she made a vast miscalculation.

Eodwulf, ever the strongest, plucks her from her feet, pinning her arms to her sides. Now, she can't cast anything. 

The woman shakes her head with a solemn sort of kindness as she approaches, passing by to leave the silence bubble. 

Veth thrashes and kicks, trying to avoid kicking anything too painful on her friend, but wanting him to let her go. He's stronger than she is, though, yet somehow gentle, which makes Veth hate him in that shining moment. 

Astrid is barely visible out of the corner of her eye, and Veth goes limp, defeated. She makes eye contact with her, heart hurting to see that there are tears sliding down her cheeks. 

_ I'm sorry _ Astrid says to her in the silence. 

_ Help  _ Veth says. 

The woman's hand on her cheek is cool, soothing, before the magic washes over her. 

Veth's exhale of breath rings in her ears. 

* * *

(Yeza watches his husband die) (Haf doesn't watch her father die, face buried in her father’s shoulder) (Bren Brenatto dies)

Bren inhales sharply and coughs, spitting out strangely congealed blood and dirt. He wonders how he got here, then remembers how he got here and then jolts forward. 

(Bren Brenatto died. Was dead.)

His feet scrabble weirdly, get trapped in his own pants and Bren falls fast on his face. Something soft knocks against the back of his head and he reaches up to fear protrusions of flesh where there weren’t previously. 

Wait.

He’s missing fingers, and when he pulls his hand down in front of his face in a panic, his skin is green and rough. 

It’s too much, so he passes back out.

* * *

(Trent walked into her room at her home, placed his hand on her forehead, and altered her memory. Her evening of reading turned into listening to her parents plot treason against her home.)

(Ten minutes of false memory is all it took for her to be willing to murder her parents, as she was trained to do.)

(She wants this memory to be the false memory, the late night reading, for it would be simpler that way. But she can feel the truth in her bones.)

Astrid and Eodwulf are watching her, wide-eyed, as she curls up on the floor. She’s too busy trying to reorient herself to pay them much mind..

(She is only passingly horrified by the deception. She can see what it was necessary, ensuring that they had no exterior ties and ensuring that their loyalty was true.)

“Veth, are you okay?” Astrid is by her side, pulling her head into her lap, stroking her face softly. So gentle, always, with Veth. “I know it’s hard. I’m sorry. I wanted this to go so much better.”

(Trent should have made her sacrifice her loved ones to test her loyalty, not her family)

Veth leans up, places her hand on the back of Astrid’s neck and pulls her down. Their lips find each other, and with a pit in her stomach, Veth kisses the woman she loves with her entire heart. 

“He lied to us,” Veth says, breathless from the kiss. 

Astrid’s face breaks into a small smile. “I’m sorry. I know it’s terrible, but we can run away now.”

“Okay.”

* * *

Holding his breath, Bren peeks his head over the edge of the riverbed. The river is still here, enough that he should be able to get a decent view of himself. 

It takes him a long moment to process what he sees, blurred in the water. Green skin, pointed teeth that he can feel more than see, flapping ears. The weird angle and the fact that none of his clothes fit anymore. The hands with too few fingers and sharp claws. 

He fell and then he was a goblin. He fell and then he was a goblin. He fell and then he was a goblin. 

He falls and he is now a goblin. 

(He left his husband and his daughter and he is now a goblin. This is his penance, he supposes. This is better than he deserves.)

They were alive, the last time he saw them, he remembers with a jolt. 

Bren runs.

* * *

Veth goes with Astrid and Eodwulf. She is quiet as they ride in their produce laden wagon to Nicodranas, suddenly farmers again. It’s funny how she ended up here. 

“Are you okay?” Astrid asks her as Eodwulf takes his turn driving. “I know this has been rough for you. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you what we were planning, but you were so fervent that I wanted to make sure that we could show you a full plan.”

“I know why you did it,” Veth says, her voice soft. She plays what happened over and over in her head. If only they had told her, they would still be back at the Academy. She could have dissuaded them, she knows it. “I understand. I just wish I had known sooner.”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to make sure everything worked out right,” Astrid says.

“I know. It’s okay,” Veth says. 

A long silence.

“I killed my parents, just like you. Eodwulf killed his parents and his brother. I just. I don’t know why,” Astrid says. “I killed my parents. Who does that?”

Veth pulls her forward, wraps Astrid tight to her body. She hates to see Astrid this upset, and it’s crushing that it’s someone so important to her that caused her to be this way. 

“It’s not your fault, even if it feels that way. It’s really not. You don’t have to believe me now, but I hope someday, you will,” Veth murmurs into her hair. 

Veth wonders what it means that she hasn’t cried yet. Veth wonders what it means that this sliver of herself seems to be gone.

* * *

Bren waits until the sun goes down to actually approach home. He knows he can’t be spotted, lest he be murdered before he has the chance to explain. 

He can’t stand to cross the threshold, so he skulks around the outside. It’s easy to curl his little body into the shadows outside the alley by his home. 

All he wants to see is a sliver of candlelight peeking out from the curtain. Some indication that his family is safe. But the lights stay stubbornly dark. 

Yeza’s parents died last year and neither of them have any particularly close friends in town. There’s only one other place where his family might be.

The old farm is a ways away, but he walks there anyway. He’s cautious as he approaches the farm, not wanting to get caught. He doesn’t even know if Yeza would take Haf there, but he might if he didn’t want to be alone. 

This one is trickier; just because there are lights on in the farmhouse, it doesn’t mean his family is there. Even the small pair of shoes left on the porch- which he can see at a distance thanks to his newfound ability to see in the dark- don’t soothe his worry; Tarrin has a young daughter of his own, now. 

Bren creeps up close to the farmhouse, doing his best to peer inside and yet stay hidden. Luckily, Tarrin likes the fresh air, so he leaves the windows open late into the night. 

Bren knows all of the nooks and crannies of the house he grew up in, even if he hasn’t been back in years. There’s a spot just behind the kitchen where the bushes his mother loved give him enough cover that he can press himself right up against the house directly under the open window.

He doesn’t hear his husband’s or daughter’s voices, just the sounds of Tarrin and his family going about their regular lives. Bren listens to the almost comforting babble, face buried against his knees. 

* * *

Nicodranas is loud against Veth’s ears. She’s been in large cities before, of course, but she feels on edge this time. They arrive on foot, having left their cart behind by the border. Once they got over, it wasn’t really necessary any longer. 

“Since we arrived a bit ahead of schedule, we have some time to kill here,” Eodwulf says. 

“We’ll have to find some sort of jobs if we want to stay comfortable,” Veth says. She’s appointed herself unofficial treasurer for now. “We have a decent amount saved up, but not enough to live long term.”

“Something not at all related to the arcane seems safest,” Astrid says. 

That’s how they end up sharing a tiny room in a bustling inn. Eodwulf works down by the docks moving boxes, while Astrid and Veth work in the inn, switching between working in the kitchen and serving food. It’s hard work, the kind of hard physical labor they had sought to avoid by going to the university, but it’s also satisfying in its own way. 

Perhaps it’s because she focuses so very hard on making sure that she’s enjoying what time she has in this little bubble, but Veth finds herself almost happy for the first time in a long time. Happy enough that she can recognize that, perhaps, she wasn’t happy before.

“I have a present for you,” Astrid proclaims one evening. They’re lying in bed together, both feet propped up on the bed frame after a long day of work. “It’s not much.”

Veth tilts her head to look over at her, admiring the curve of her cheek. “You don’t need to get me anything.”

“I did rope you into running away from the secret government organization that brainwashed us, which will almost certainly come back to bite us in the ass,” Astrid points out. 

“Well, when you put it like that,” Veth says teasingly, “I suppose you actually owe me a lot of presents.”

Astrid reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small pouch. She drops it gently on Veth’s tummy, where it jingles.

Veth opens the pouch slowly, to avoid anything dumping out on her face. It’s a small collection of buttons, of all shapes and sizes. 

“You didn’t have time to grab anything of yours. So, uh, I thought you might like to start up your collection again,” Astrid explains. 

“Thank you,” Veth says, closing the pouch. The weight is comforting on her chest and she tilts her head so she’s looking back at Astrid. Her eyes are a little blurry, which gives Astrid a soft glow. Her short hair is stuck up at all angles, and not even her blurry vision can soften the sharp planes of her face or her strong jaw, not that she would want it to. “You’re wondrous.”

The compliment seems to catch Astrid unawares. Her smile is just too wide for her face, and Veth does her best to remember this moment. There won’t be many more of them.

* * *

In the light, there’s nothing left but ruins and dead bodies. Bren turns over each one, but none of them belong to Yeza or Haf. 

That’s good, he supposes. It’s good that they’re still alive, for sure. But who has them? For what purpose? How long will they stay alive?

There are tracks out of the encampment, and he does his best to follow them. He doesn’t get far before the trail seems to fade completely; they’re definitely not goblin tracks, which… well, must be better than them being goblin tracks, right? 

Except he doesn’t know who those people were who attacked the goblins. There aren’t any of their bodies left over for him to try to examine, either. 

He’s just left here, in his foreign body, and the weight of his own cowardice on his shoulders. Bren doesn’t know who has his family, but he needs to figure it out so he can get them to safety.

* * *

Veth slips a button into Astrid’s pocket. Eodwulf’s, too. Not any of the buttons that Astrid gave her, but buttons she had collected herself over the few weeks they stayed in this little inn.

They’re both near bursting with excitement when they approach the ship that will take them away to their new lives; Veth can feel it through the hands clasped in both of hers. 

She’s slipped more than buttons in their pockets. She’s slipped notes explaining why it has to be this way. They won’t understand, may not forgive her, but she has to try anyway.

The three of them carefully board the ship, making sure not to draw any undue attention. They may be far from the seat of the Empire’s power, but they know better than most how far the Empire’s power truly reaches. 

They get settled in their room when Veth excuses herself, claiming that she needs some air.

“Oh, I’ll come with you,” Eodwulf says, getting up. “I could stand to stretch my legs myself.”

“I need your help stowing the rest of our supplies,” Astrid provides Veth with the excuse she needs. One last gift. “Don’t think you get to run off so easily.”

“Weakling!” Eodwulf teases, nudging her lightly before turning to help.

Veth slips quietly out the door, standing just outside for a moment. She listens to her love and her brother tease and taunt each other, laughing with lightness that she hasn’t heard in what feels like an eternity. It tugs at her heart, makes her not want to do this, but she knows what needs to be done.

She makes her way down the hall, back up to the deck. From there, it’s easy enough to slip off the boat to the shore. She pulls her hood up, lest her eagle-eyed love ruin her plan before it begins. There are plenty of people around her, so it’s easy to get lost in the crowd. 

Her breath seems to catch in her chest as she watches the crew prepare to make way. Soon enough, the ship pulls away from the dock and heads out for the crisp blue sky. 

Maybe it’s her imagination, but she could swear she sees a flash of cropped brown hair bobbing next to a much taller figure with a mop of brown hair. She likes to think so, at least.

Once the ship is less than a speck in the distance, she turns away. If she’s going to make things safe- truly safe- for Astrid and for Eodwulf, she has a lot of work to do, a lot to learn.

* * *

This isn’t how either of them wanted to spend their night. Jail is… less than ideal. They have goals, they have aims, but Bren is a goblin, and that’s all the crime that he needs to commit. Veth is caught slipping food into her pocket. That, together with her ragged appearance earns her a stay in the jail cell for an indefinite amount of time. 

Veth peers down at her new cellmate, tossed unceremoniously in by the guards. A small goblin man, sharp teeth and sharp claws- natural weapons she is envious of, truthfully- with ragged clothes, all skin and bone. 

Bren examines the woman whose cell he’s been shoved into. A halfling woman in a ragged purple dress that was probably very nice, once. Leaves and flowers tangled in her hair, dirt smeared across her face, examining him right back in a calculating sort of way. 

“Hello,” Veth speaks first, the sounds of her Zemnian accent surprising Bren, “How are you?”

“Well. Not great,” Bren says slowly. “I’m in a jail cell.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, that sucks,” Veth agrees. 

"Do you have a wire?" Bren asks. "I can unlock the door if you do."

Veth knows that she could have the guard bring her one. She could probably have him unlock the door and escort them out. But. The thought of plucking the strings of another's mind makes her feel uncomfortable, so she just shakes her head. 

She uses evocation magic now; elements are simple, in their way. Flames licking up someone’s arm or freezing them to ice is bright and clear in a way that forcing people to behold terrible sights in their mind are not. Straightforward, the effects of which are plain to see. 

Bren frowns at that, pressing himself into the corner. The fear is rising up in him, loosening his tongue. 

"They're going to hang me tomorrow," Bren says so quiet that Veth can barely hear him. 

"Why?" Veth asks. 

"Because they think I'm a goblin," Bren says. Veth doesn't point out that he is, in fact, a goblin. It seems cruel. "I stole a book, which, okay, I probably shouldn't've done, but they're only hanging me for it because they think I'm a goblin."

Veth looks him up and down. He seems honest, as far as she can tell. She doesn’t particularly mind waiting in this cell until they decide to let her go, but something in her tugs out at the thought of this goblin being murdered over prejudice.

“If I get you a wire, you can get us out of here?” Veth asks. 

“But you don’t have a wire,” Bren says. 

“Well, I can get one. Maybe,” Veth says. 

Bren watches as she leans back against the wall. Her eyes glaze over, and suddenly, it’s like she’s looking somewhere beyond the door that he can’t see. 

Her breathing slows and Bren steps forward to make sure she hasn’t, like, died. That’d be perfect, they can hang him for her death, too. This is still far better than he deserves, and he may have even considered not fighting it except that he needs to find his family desperately. 

(He’s made no progress in finding his family, a disappointment)

“Are you okay?” Bren asks. 

No reply. 

Great. 

After a long moment, Veth blinks and makes eye contact with him again. 

“It’ll be a few minutes,” Veth says. 

“Uh. Okay,” Bren says.

They wait in silence, Bren feeling increasingly awkward about the whole thing and Veth much more comfortable. She’s been avoiding going to any of the larger cities around, not wanting to risk being seen by anyone she shouldn’t be, yet, but she’s become quickly used to long, silent stretches. 

Bren is waiting for the other shoe to drop with this woman. Since he became a goblin, people have been fairly uniform in their disdain for him, only varying when they’re outright hostile, but so far, she’s treated him like a person, not a goblin. It’s… strange. Nice. Strange. 

“What are we waiting for?” Bren asks.

“Neb,” Veth says.

Bren nods like that means something to him. 

Her eyes glaze over again for a brief moment, and when she comes back to herself, she smiles and she gets up. Bren watches her from the corner as she squats by the door. It seems reckless of her to turn her back to a strange goblin, truthfully.

Bren creeps forward and Veth turns to flash him a smile. When she turns back, Neb is creeping along carefully, her little myconid sprout, her fungus familiar, with a wire from her things in hand. 

Veth takes the wire from Neb, poofing it back to the ether once she has the wire in hand. 

“What was that?” Bren asks, tilting his head.

“Fungus friend,” Veth says matter of factly. “Neb.”

Bren, again, nods like that means something to him. 

“Can you really do something with this?” Veth asks as she hands him the wire. 

“Yeah,” Bren says, taking the wire from him. 

He’s been practicing picking locks since he became a goblin. This body is much better at it than he could ever imagine his old body being; it’s smaller, quicker, has better eyesight. Being able to break in and steal things is a necessity in a way it never was when he was able to earn money legitimately. 

It’s different trying to unlock the door from the wrong side when he can’t see it. It takes him a few tries, and he almost has it when the guard comes around the corner. He pulls his hand back into the cell, trying to look very much like someone who wasn’t just trying to pick a lock and escape. 

“Hey! What were you doing there, you filthy vermin?” the guard yells as he runs up. 

Bren shirks further back into the cell, not sure what’s going to happen, but knowing that it’s not going to be good. 

“Did you almost unlock it?” Veth whispers to him. “Was it close?”

“Just another second,” Bren whispers. 

“Okay. Okay. It’s going to be okay,” Veth says. 

Veth waves her hands and whispers, then fire shoots out of her hands. It hits the man square in the chest, knocking him back before another shot of fire arcs down the hall to light the adjoining room on fire. A distraction, but perhaps not the best of plans.

She stands back and gestures to him. “Uh, please hurry.”

“You can do magic?” Bren asks, re-taking his place by the door as he fiddles with the lock again. 

“Yep,” Veth says. The cell door pops open and she beams at him. “Wow! You did it!”

“We should probably get going?” Bren says, pointing to the fire starting to spread down the hall. 

“Good idea,” Veth says. “I have to get what they took from me, though.”

They bolt out the door together. Bren could leave her behind, and Veth expects him to. They’ve escaped from their cell; there’s nothing really holding them together, but Bren follows her down the hall and into the storage room.

She takes what’s hers and then some; he takes what’s not hers that seems useful. A pouch of gold, some rations, and a few other assorted knickknacks. 

They manage to sneak out the back, away from the gathering crowd trying to quench the flames, and they wordlessly take off in the same direction into the woods. 

Once they’re far enough away that Veth feels reasonably safe in the fading light, she stops, leaning against a tree to catch her breath. To both of their surprise, Bren stops, too. 

“Do you want to camp here tonight?” Veth asks after a strangely long silence.

“With you?”

Veth nods. 

“Are you sure?” Bren asks. 

“Is there some reason why not?” Veth asks. “Are you planning on robbing me or killing me? That’d be rude.”

Bren waits a beat, thinking it over. “Well. I probably wouldn’t tell you if I was. Are you going to rob or kill me?”

Veth shrugs. She takes out a spool of silver wire and starts a slow circle around the perimeter of the clearing, Bren watching with interest.

“It will let me know if someone crosses the border. I can give you your own bubble that will sound aloud if someone crosses it. Including me,” Veth says. 

Bren nods slowly, continuing to watch as Veth circles him with the same silver thread. She demonstrates that she and Neb both will trip the wire, too, and he tugs on his sensitive ears as the bell rings aloud. 

“Couldn’t you make it go away?” Bren asks. 

“I could, but I won’t,” Veth says.

Bren almost believes her. 

“Hey,” Bren asks when they’re curled up in their separate bubbles, back to back and twenty feet apart. “Should I call you something?”

“My name is Nott,” she says, reaching to smooth her finger over the buttons in her pocket. She doesn’t know who she is, not anymore, so being Nott seems accurate enough. “What about you?”

“Caleb,” he says the first name that pops into his head. The villain of some book that he read long ago. 

It’s a weird name for a goblin, but Nott doesn’t say anything. 

Nott and Caleb lay in silence, both pretending to be asleep until the pink starts to poke over the horizon. Then, they fall asleep for real. 

**Author's Note:**

> Myconoid sprouts aren't technically a familiar option, buuuuut they're cr0 creatures and are bad at most things, so I figured it was allowable.


End file.
